


In Search of Sanity

by JackBivouac



Series: Strange Aeons [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Aphrodisiacs, Blood and Gore, Bondage, Brother/Sister Incest, Death, Doctor/Patient, Double Penetration, Drugged Sex, F/M, Forced Incest, Hospital Sex, Humiliation, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Other, Priest Abuse, Rape, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-19 03:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18130085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackBivouac/pseuds/JackBivouac
Summary: Backstory oneshots deviating/derived from a Strange Aeons campaign





	1. The Doctor Is in You

Briarstone Asylum was not a place of refuge. It was a dumping grounds for unwanted family members, troublemaking prisoners, and the like. Still, it made little sense to Campre that he always found his favorite girl cowering in some corner of her room when it came time for the afternoon medication. 

“Ilesi, come now,” said the orderly, tucking the black strands of her hair behind her ears. “It’s already been a month. Besides, you know you like it.”

“I don’t. I don’t,” she croaked, tears welling in her dark, shadowed eyes.

Campre shook his head with a helpless chuckle. Women. He had to help his girl up on account of her arms being bound in a straitjacket under the roundness of her chest--Dr. Losandro’s orders until Ilesi took her medicine like a good little girl.

With a gentle but firm hand on her back, Campre led his girl to the clinic, drawing a blue curtain around them. He walked her to the edge of the bed-like table and opened her straitjacket one buckle at a time.

She was completely naked underneath. He kissed the sweet-smelling skin of her neck. Ilesi shuddered, which only caused the half-undone fabric of her straitjacket to fall open to her elbows, baring the full, fleshy globes of her breasts.

Campre couldn’t himself at the tantalizing sight. He grabbed her tits in either hand, squeezing her softness.

Ilesi whimpered at the touch. Campre flushed. He’d been too rough too early. His fingers fumbled the rest of the buckles open as fast as he could.

“Now lie down, love, there’s a good girl.”

She obeyed, naked and grimacing. She flinched under his butterfly kisses and caresses as he strapped her arms and legs into the leather cuffs, binding them flat to the table.

“Here comes the choo-choo train!” Campre pushed the little white pill into her mouth, keeping his hand clamped over her until she swallowed.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.

Ilesi’s eyes dilated. A soft pink flush spread through her chest up her neck and into her lips and cheeks. Her mouth opened with a soft, needy moan.

“That’s my girl, my good girl.” Campre stuck his fingers into her cunt. Her folds squelched wet in less than five strokes. “My good girl, you’re so good.”

Ilesi purred at his touch even as she bucked her hips in honest, wordless need for more. She squealed with delight as he straddled her head with his naked knees. She eagerly gobbled his cock into her mouth where she licked and sucked him like her favorite flavor ice lolly.

Campre held back as best as he could. He buried his tongue in the sweet squeeze of her cunt. She came in seconds, squirting into his mouth.

Her throat always tightened when she came. Campre’s cock hit the back squeeze just right. He exploded into her mouth.

Ilesi drank down every drop, licked him clean, and whined for more.

Campre climbed off her with a laugh, patting his good girl’s head. Her face was a beautiful mess.

“You did so good, little girl, so I’m gonna do good to you.” 

Campre selected two large, ribbed dildoes from a sideboard of tools. He pushed the first through her pussy lips, delighting in her eager squirms and orgasmic cries. Her tongue lolled doglike from her mouth.

Once she was good and pussy-stuffed, he pushed the second dildo into her even more sensitive ass.

Ilesi screamed and bucked, fingers and toes curling in unmistakable pleasure. She writhed in bound ecstasy upon the bed, the rigid cuffs saving her from her own, unintentional violence.

“Do you like that love? Do you like it?”

Ilesi answered with a series of back-arching squeals, her mind too far gone for human speech.

#*#*#*#*

Dr. Oathsday grinned at the sounds and silhouettes from behind the paper curtain. She herself hadn’t bothered with such closeting of natural pleasures. Any doctor, orderly, or patient entering the clinic would see her positioning her boys of the month, Cane and Argade.

She pulled two handles hanging from above connected to a series of pulleys. The beds of her brown-haired Cane and red-haired Argade rose from horizontal to vertical so that her two bound boys faced each other. Both their cocks stood erect, the two having taken their afternoon medication.

Dr. Oathsday grabbed Cane and Argade’s shoulders and squeezed herself into the narrow space between them. Her breasts pressed flat against Cane’s chest, her back flat against Argade’s. She hummed in satisfaction at their flesh walls around her and eased her holes over their cocks.

The effect was immediate. Her boys howled in urgent lust, thrusting wildly through the mouths of her pussy and anus.

Dr. Oathsday shrieked and slipped further down, impaling herself onto their pistoning dicks. Restrained by the cuffs as they were, their forceful thrusts pounded her shafts to a wet pulp.

Cane and Argade’s seed burst inside her. Dr. Oathsday, grinning and drooling in her own orgasm remained pinned on their still-hard cocks. Within seconds, her boys were back to thrusting and howling in their medicated lust.


	2. Medicine in the Afternoon

Like any proper asylum in Ustalav, Briarstone had its very own priest to manage any physical healing and to keep up the faith. Father Setrak was their chaplain, currently touching himself under the robe in his office.

A nest of cushions and linens squeezed between the rear wall and a battered desk covered in origami animals. A sculpted emblem of a thorny crown, the unholy symbol of Nocticula, Our Lady in Shadow, overlooked the proceedings upon this nest.

The platinum-haired siblings Mura and Bates rocked in a tangle of bound limbs upon the linens. Mura was below, her back arching against floor. Her bent legs were bound by the ankles, their leather cuffs locked behind her brother’s back. Her arms stretched out behind her head to the pipe where her wrists were cuffed.

Mura’s tongue lolled from her grinning, panting mouth. Her blue eyes stared through the ceiling in the half-lidded ecstasy reamed up her anus by her brother’s cock.

Bates, insensible to her lust, obeyed only his own. He bit and sucked her neck and barely-there breasts, his teeth breaking the skin.

His arms were cuffed in leather behind his back, but it didn’t stop his devouring or his furious, wall-tearing assault into his sister’s anus. He never held back, cumming at once into the tight squeeze of her shaft. Seconds later, his drugged cock returned to its pistoning hardness.

Father Setrak whimpered and broke into a sweat. The sight of the brother and sister coiled in squealing, bucking incestual pleasure sent him into a religious fervor.

“Darkest Nocticula, witness me, your humble servant, as I rape your faithful.”

The priest parted his robes and fell upon Bates, pinning the patient in and against his sister. Father Setrak shoved his cock into the younger man’s clenched anus, tearing a path up his shaft.

Bates let out a mindless howl. His hips, urged by the priest’s frenzied thrusts into his asshole, bucked furiously into Mura’s soft asscheeks. His own cock wedged deep up her tight, burning shaft. He exploded with an animal scream, her anus sucking every drop from his head.

Bates’ own anal shaft clamped around the priest’s dick as he came. The sudden squeeze ripped an eye-watering moan from Father Setrak’s throat just as Bates’ anus ripped the seed from the priest’s cock.

Father Setrak cried in cool, sweaty release as the young man’s hole milked him dry. He staggered back, falling onto his shoulders.

The brother and sister continued to rape each other raw.

“Nocticula be praised,” he cried.

#*#*#*#*

The halls of Briarstone filled with the muffled, pleasured screams of its drugged patients. Only one had not been given their medicine.

Dal, fitted in a sturdy gray apron, scrubbed the soft-tiled floors of the hall on their hands and knees. Their bowed head had been shaved to rid them of an infestation of lice. It remained bowed as footfalls approached from behind.

“Poor little Dal,” mocked Dr. Latchke. “Do you know why you’re not aloud to join in the fun and games?”

Dal continued to scrub, their eyes fixed on the graying suds.

“It’s because you’re ugly. You’re the ugliest little shit I’ve ever seen, Baldy Dal,” he continued, crouching down behind them. “Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you, bitch.”

The doctor grabbed their ankle and dragged Dal backward. They face-planted into the sudsy tiles with a soft grunt of pain. Accidentally bunching their sack-like shift over their thighs.

Dr. Latchke tilted his head. “Huh.”

Ugly, Baldy Dal had the shapely calves and thighs of a slut. He held them down with a hand against their bald head and yanked their panties down to the crook of their knees.

Dal gasped in panic, but couldn’t move an inch with the side of their head pressed to the floor. Dr. Latchke’s gloved, probing fingers forced apart the virgin walls of their cunt and anus.

“No, please! I’ll suck your dick!” they offered. Their volume increased in desperation the deeper the doctor’s fingers drove up their tight, sensitive shafts.

“You will, when I’m through with you,” Dr. Latchke smirked and growled.

His fingers left their shafts and his hand, their head, but only to fold and bind their arms behind their back with the ties of their apron.

“No!” Dal screamed and struggled under him, wriggling inches up the tile in the naive hope they could escape their impending rape.

Dr. Latchke laughed. His hands seized the slutty curves of their hips and dragged Baldy Dal back under him. He unbuttoned his pants and let the length of his cock grow thick and heavy in soft crack of their asscheeks.

The virgin slut bawled like a tantrum-throwing child into the floor. The doctor rolled his eyes and shoved his fingers, wet with their ass and pussy into the ugly bitch’s mouth for a gag. While they were busy coughing and choking on the new insertion in their mouth, he set the swollen head of his dick against their ass.

He pushed. Dal’s asshole ripped around his dick.

Dal’s screaming sobs choked around the gloved fingers stuffing their mouth as Dr. Latchke’s stuffing dick pounded them into the floor. Their pierced walls were forced to cling around the cock raping a new path through them.

Their virgin shaft wrang a groan from the doctor’s throat as it wrung the cum from his dick. Dr. Latchke pulled out from Baldy Dal, watching in clinical fascination as the pink mix of his cum and their virginal blood oozed from their winking anus.

“Huh.”

He wrenched the newly annointed cumslut to their feet and led them by the throat to the supply closet. He threw Baldy Dal into the rattling shelves of linen and bottles. They fell to a crumpled, weeping heap.

Dr. Latchke shut the door, effectively locking the bound patient in the chlorine-reeking darkness. Though not for long. He returned to their kneeling, tear-stained heap to claim their mouth and pussy, too.

Baldy Dal screamed themself hoarse, thoroughly violated in every hole, just like all the prettier patients. When he was through, their rapist let them stew under a sticky coat of his cum in the chlorine darkness.

“Doctor’s orders,” he laughed, shutting the door.


	3. None to Be Found

It was a cold day in Hell when Mother Zanalus, cult priestess of Hastur, the King in Yellow, came to call upon Briarstone Asylum. The superintendent, Dr. Losandro, was immediately taken with the silver-haired, golden-eyed elf. Her ludicrously large donation didn't hurt either.

“The whispers on the wind tell me you've concocted a very...special medicine for treating your patients. I would love to see its effects in action,” said Mother Zanalus.

Dr. Losandro had their staff prepare patients for viewing at once. The doctors and orderlies lined up the chosen six on chairs, gagged with rubber balls to keep from harming the priestess’ ears with their shrill cries of animal lust.

Ilesi sat upon the first chair. Ropes bound her arms to the sides of her chest, her wrists bound together behind her back. Her ass had been pulled through the hole in the back of the chair, so that her breasts pressed against her thighs. More ropes lashed her knees together and her dangling feet to either of the chair’s front legs.

Cane sat upon the second chair. Ropes bound his chest and bent arms to the back of the chair so that his fingers helplessly grasped the air at either shoulder. His bent legs had been tied calf to thigh and lashed to either arm of the chair, spreading them to expose his erect cock and anus.

Argade had been draped over the seat of the third chair. His arms were tied over his head behind the back of the chair. His legs kicked and scraped his heels against the floor in front of the chair.

Bates had been draped over the seat of the fourth chair as well. Like Cane, his legs had been frog-tied and lashed to either arm of the chair. His arms had been bound down the length of his shins, wrists bound to his ankles.

Mura was bound to the fifth chair, her arms bound to the arms of the chair, her chest bound to its back, and her legs threaded through the arms of the chair, bound to them by the knees.

Baldy Dal was bound backward to the sixth chair. Their legs were spread to either side of the back, ankles bound to the back legs of the chair. Their arms had been bound behind them at the elbows and wrists, then lashed by a taut rope to the bar between the front legs of the chair.

Each of the six patients squirmed and writhed in their bonds in the throes of Dr. Losandro’s pill. Dildoes vibrating with magic plugged and penetrated every cunt and anus.

Mother Zanalus walked down the line of patients in spasming in their restraints. Her golden eyes lit with religious fervor. She reached into her robes and pulled a cracked-leather tome from within.

“Dr. Losandro, might I bestow my god’s blessing upon these your endeavors of incomparable genius?”

“Do, please,” said Dr. Losandro, reaching into their robes for a much fleshier object but one no less solid than the priestess’ tome.

Mother Zanalus opened the Chain of Nights. She chanted in Aklo, the language of evil. With each line of recitation, a cool wave of yellow fog rolled out from the tome. The yellow fog filled the demonstration chamber and by the end the passage, the entire asylum.

Dr. Losandro couldn’t see more than five feet in front of them. But the heard the dull thud of the closed tome. The explosive burst and whine of six rubber balls, popped by gnashing teeth.

“Ah, Mother Zanalus?”

Six feral voices in drugged frenzy took up an unearthly shriek. The superintendent swallowed hard. Mother Zanalus laughed. 

“The Unspeakable has accepted your tribute, six souls for his unknowable favor.”

Six pairs of yellow-glowing eyes pierced through the depths of the fog. Their shadowed forms moved, unbound.


	4. The Search Continues

Campre awoke behind a familiar blue curtain and strapped to a familiar table. He was utterly naked. A heavy, dream-like yellow fog obscured another figure both naked and familiar.

“Ilesi?”

She lifted her head without a word. Her eyes glowed with a yellow light. 

Ilesi approached with soundless, mincing steps. A toothy smile peeked through the black, tangled curtains of her hair. She kept one arm bent behind her back.

“Wh-what have you got there, love?”

She stopped by his bound bedside. Metal flashed. In a single, scything blur, she sliced dick and balls from between his legs.

Blood erupted in an arc across her arms and face. Campre's genitals flumped between his leather-strapped legs, blood pumping from the opened gash.

Campre screamed and thrashed so violently that his vocal chords tore. Blood spewed from his mouth and drenched his bucking hips.

Ilesi patted his head, now drenched in sweat and froth. She grabbed a large, ribbed dildo from the sideboard and jammed it down his broken throat.

She grabbed a second and rammed its full length and girth up Campre’s new and bloody gash. His dick and balls she fisted into the dying man's own anus.

#*#*#*#*

Dr. Oathsday woke to spine-tingling screams. The unnatural yellow fog filling the clinic, however, shrouded its source.

She was lying naked, strapped to a bed-like table. A metal wire had been stretched across her throat, both ends nailed to the floor.

Cane and Argade materialized from the fog on either side of the good doctor. Both their eyes glowed yellow.

“Boys! Boys, please!”

Her boys smiled. They grabbed the handle above and pulled.

The table turned, forcing Dr. Oathsday's neck into the wire as it attempted to right itself. 

The wire first crushed the writhing doctor's windpipe. Then the dull metal slowly ripped apart skin, tube, and finally bone. The whole head simply popped off the gnarly twist and rolled a red trail across the floor.

#*#*#*#*

Father Setrak awoke on the floor of his office. Bates and Mura smiled down at him. They held either end of his heavy, wooden desk in their hands.

“N-no, wai--!”

They released the desk. The priest's head crunched and quashed like a raw egg beneath its weight. Bloodied brains squelched across the carpet like a Halo of scrambled eggs drowned in ketchup.

#*#*#*#*

Dr. Latchke awoke with a rubber tube stuffed down his throat. He was bound and belted into a straitjacket on what appeared to be the floor of a supply closet.

Ugly, Baldy Dal leaned against the shelves. They held a funnel in one hand and a bottle of chlorine concentrate in the other.

The doctor's eyes stretched wide in knowledge and terror. His nasal shrieks gave way to the bubbling gurgles of a man drowning in his own liquidized organs.

#*#*#*#*

Dr. Losandro was the last to awaken. They sat naked upon a hard, wooden chair. Ropes lashed their arms to its and their legs to those in the front. They called out to Mother Zanalus. 

“Hmph!”

A rubber ball gagged their mouth. It didn’t prevent them from continuing to try. The superintendent rocked from side to side in their chair. If they could fall and break the wood, they just might…!

A hand caught their chair, steadied it. Shadowy forms appeared in the yellow mist. They surrounded Dr. Losandro. They opened six pairs of piercing yellow eyes.

Ilesi stepped forward, scalpel in hand. She slashed a cut into Dr. Losandro’s belly.

The superintendent shrieked, straining against the ropes. Their bonds held, as did the steadying hand on the back of their chair.

Ilesi pulled a magically vibrating dildo from behind her back. She pushed the dildo through the lips of the cut into Dr. Losandro’s belly. The superintendent shrieked, snorted, and writhed harder as the vibrations sent the dildo burrowing organ-deep into their belly.

Cane and Argade stepped up next, each armed with scalpels and magic dildoes. They slashed the superintendent under either side of the ribcage. The dildoes burrowed down against the roof of their stomach.

Bates and Mura cut Dr. Losandro low in the gut. They let their dildoes burrow into the squishing, ropey tangle of their intestines.

Dal went last. They smiled almost compassionately down at the eye-bulging, muffled-shrieking superintendent. Their glowing eyes tracked the movement of the buzzing, burrowing dildoes wriggling under Dr. Losandro’s blood-coated belly skin.

Dal cut the superintendent from the cleft of their balls through their taint to the asshole to form a single, blood-pumping gash between their legs.

The spongy tissue of Dr. Losandro’s balls oozed from the cut. The superintendent’s eyes rolled to the back of their skull.

Dal shoved the last buzzing dildo into the superintendent’s bloody gash where it burrowed upward into the outer wall of their anus.

The six didn’t bother to stick around to witness the death of the Briarstone staff. They vanished from the asylum with the yellow fog, leaving not sanity but massacre in their wake.


End file.
